


The Ballad of Bellamy Blake

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robin Hood, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:12:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: If the world could almost end and the rich could decide they were reverting to feudalism, Bellamy decided he could bring back banditry.  It was only fair, after all.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [museumofflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museumofflight/gifts).



> In the tradition of Robin Hood legends and ballads, this is going to be a collection of related stories without a real overarching *plot.* Some chapters will immediately follow others, but others might be out of chronological order. And I'll just add to this ficlet collection whenever the inspiration strikes.

“Stay down,” Bellamy hissed at Jasper.  Jasper had stuck his head up to watch Emori, who was lying in the middle of the road.  But the approaching truck would roll right over her if they suspected an ambush, so they had to stay hidden.  

Jasper ducked back down and Bellamy peered through the screen of underbrush as the armored truck rumbled up and pulled to a stop.  Just like they’d hoped, the driver got out to go check on her.  A back door opened too, and a blonde woman hopped out and hurried over.

He waited until she crouched down next to Emori.  “Now,” he whispered into the radio, and as one, they rose from both sides of the road.  They had these raids down to a science. Octavia and Emori disabled the driver while Murphy and Jasper pulled out any remaining passengers and held them at gunpoint.  Bullets were scarce these days— especially outside the walls— so only Jasper’s was loaded, but the passengers wouldn’t know that.  Bellamy and Miller handled the bodyguard on the opposite side of the vehicle, and together they dragged everyone into a line.  Octavia and Miller turned to rummaging through the vehicle for anything Raven and Monty might be able to use back at camp, while Bellamy started pacing in front of their hostages.  

“Valuables, in the bag.  Money too.  And guns,” he said from behind his crossbow.  Murphy followed him with a cloth sack and Jasper nudged the bodyguard with his rifle when he looked reluctant to turn over his handgun.  The passengers were two women, the one who had gotten out and another woman around the same age.  The woman who stayed in the vehicle turned over her earrings easily enough, and the driver dropped several gold pieces into the bag without a word.

But the first passenger dropped her necklace and money into the bag and then stopped, defiance in her blue eyes.  “Watch too,” he ordered, keeping his voice low.  He remembered her from before, back when he lived in Arkadia.  Back when he and Octavia had a home and a mother and lived in poverty.

He hadn’t had a choice when they were exiled, but now he wouldn’t go back for anything.  This was much more fun.

“It’s broken,” she said, clasping her hand over it protectively.  

“In the bag.”

“It’s worth nothing, I swear,” she said, and Bellamy looked over his shoulder at Jasper, who obediently raised his rifle to his shoulder.  Above the bandana, Bellamy could see uncertainty in Jasper’s eyes, but he hoped the prisoner wouldn’t notice.  “And it was my father’s.”

“That’s not my problem,” he said, even though he remembered Jake Griffin well.  He was a good man who had done his best for the poorer residents of Arkadia, even setting up a brand new water system for them when the old one failed— even though King Thelonius had declared that they must make do with repairs.  

King Thelonius was also the one who decreed that medicine would be reserved for the useful.  Thanks to that, Bellamy had nearly watched Octavia die, and it was only by the grace of the woman standing in front of him that she had survived.  Because Clarke had defied the king’s orders and brought antibiotics to their quarter and saved his sister’s life.

But Bellamy was not someone who could afford to be soft.  Not in this life.  On exception meant another, and then their whole mission would go up in flames.  “In the bag,” he growled again, and Jasper cocked his trigger.  Bellamy tightened his hand around the crossbow and prayed she didn’t call their bluff.

Looking furious, Clarke unbuckled the watch and threw it in the bag with some force.  “This isn’t over,  _ Robin Hood, _ ” she sneered.

“Looking forward to it, princess,” he replied.  He smirked at her under his black bandana, and then signaled to his band of Merry Men.  Miller and Emori hefted the haul from the truck up onto their shoulders, Jasper and Murphy holstered their weapons, and Bellamy took the sack with the stolen items.  Octavia finished letting the air out of their tires and joined the rest of them and they melted back into the forest.

Like they’d never been there at all.

 


	2. II

It was dark before they made it back to Sherwood Forest.  That wasn’t its real name, of course— they were somewhere near what used to be Shenandoah National Park— but if Bellamy was going to be Robin Hood, he was going to go _full_ Robin Hood.  If the world could almost end and the rich could decide they were reverting to feudalism, he’d bring back banditry.  It was only fair, after all. **  
**

They had stopped at one of their usual hideouts along the way for a few hours, just in case Clarke’s party had radioed back to Arkadia with news of the hold up.  The last thing they could afford was having Ontari’s deputies track them back to the main camp.  Raven’s booby traps were good, but you couldn’t be too careful.  The rest of them had pulled off their bandanas miles ago, wiping sweat from their faces as soon as they were far enough from the road.  But Murphy kept his bandana on the entire trip back.  They depended on Murphy’s identity staying secret; without his ability to get into Arkadia they could steal all they wanted, but that meant nothing if they couldn’t get relief to those who needed it most.

Monty and Raven fell on the tech Octavia had swiped from the armored truck like starving peasants on a feast.  They had been trying to build a reliable communication system that didn’t depend on radio waves, but they still needed to build a transmitter and he knew they had high hopes for this haul.  Bellamy headed to the shack they used to store their stolen goods, and then he joined Miller by the fire to roast the deer they’d scored that morning.

The next day broke clear and sunny, the sounds of sparring and laughter ringing through their forested hideout.  Bellamy slept at the top of a circular, metal building that had probably been a storage facility back when the world could make enough food to store.  It wasn’t quite tall enough to be a grain silo, but the shelves and empty space indicated storage of some kind.  Or so he told his Merry Men when they first moved in, because people liked to have an answer to their questions.  Octavia thought it looked like a rocketship, which Bellamy privately thought was preposterous, but it did look as though it had been dropped from the sky out here, in the middle of the woods, all by itself.  Whatever had surrounded it had been eaten away, by time and scavengers like them.

Bellamy climbed down from the roof, where he liked to sleep when the nights were clear and not too cold, ate a bowl of porridge— or what Monty called porridge, but was really just a bowl of mushy grains— next to the fire and then went to the shack to start sorting their haul from the day before.  They had enough for Murphy to smuggle into Nygel on his next trip into Arkadia and it was time to decide what they were keeping and what could be better used elsewhere.

Bellamy rested his hand against the wooden door jamb and started keying in the passcode when an arrow hissed past his ear and buried itself just inches from his fingertips. He spun around and reached for his crossbow, but by the time he had it aimed at the trees above Raven and Monty’s lab, the archer had jumped down from her perch.

Clarke Griffin strolled into the middle of their camp, bow in hand and a quiver of arrows over her shoulder.  She stopped and smoothly drew another one, aiming straight at Bellamy.  “You have something that belongs to me,” she declared, and let the arrow fly.


	3. III

The arrow hit a few inches above the previous one, roughly where Bellamy’s head had been just moments ago.  The camp reacted instantly, borne of months and months of drills just like this.  Raven appeared with a trigger mechanism clutched in her fist— to which trap Bellamy didn’t know, but whatever it was, it probably would explode— and Octavia loaded her rifle from beside the fire.  Miller had picked up the closest weapon (a hatchet, which he was terrible with but Clarke wouldn’t know that) and Murphy had sidled into the dropship to hide. **  
**

“Give me my watch back and I’ll leave,” Clarke said calmly.

“It’s not so easy, princess,” he said with a bravado he did not entirely feel.  “We don’t just let anyone walk into our camp, and we let even fewer just walk out.”  Privately, he was impressed that she’d found them— they’d kept their hideout hidden for years now, even with Ontari’s grudge against them.  Clearly, this woman was more than just Queen Lexa’s former betrothed.

“I have no quarrel with you or your cause.  I just want my watch.  And Harper’s earrings.”

“Just the watch and earrings now,” he said, moving closer.  Clarke stepped back and soon they were circling each other, the rest of Bellamy’s band watching with baited breath.  “Then it will be your money, and your driver’s radio, and your bodyguard’s gun, and you get the picture.  We’re in the habit of stealing from the rich, not giving it back.”

Clarke cocked her head.  “Just the watch and the earrings and you have my word, I’ll leave your little hideout and never come back.  I won’t even tell the sheriff where you’re hiding.”

“Maybe not the sheriff, but what about the King Regent?  He was the one you were going to see, weren’t you?”

“Titus has no interest in fighting you.”

“The Regent has no interest in protecting his people, you mean.  No more than _Good Queen Lexa_ ever did.”  He used Lexa’s nickname like a curse, because maybe she wasn’t worse than King Thelonius, but she wasn’t much better either.  And Bellamy did not, as a rule, trust anyone who called themselves royalty.  “Tell me, is she ever coming back from the Front?”

Something like pain flickered across Clarke’s face.  “Mount Weather is a threat to everyone in her kingdom, even you.  She’s protecting us the only way she can.”

“By leaving us in the hands of a religious fanatic and a psychopath.”

“Ontari wasn’t sheriff when she left.”

“But she is now, and the Regent has done nothing to stop her,” Bellamy countered.  He flicked his gaze to Octavia in a silent signal, but Clarke seemed to notice and shifted so Bellamy was now between her and Octavia’s gun.

“I didn’t come to debate politics with you.  I came to get back my father’s watch.”

“Fight us for it,” he offered.  “If you can win, you get the watch.”

“And the earrings.”

“If your ladies maid wants her earrings, she can come get them herself.  That’s my offer, princess.  Take it or leave it.”

Clarke tossed her bow aside and unbuckled the strap across her chest that held the quiver in place.  Bellamy nodded, and Miller dropped the hatchet and rushed her from behind.

Clarke spun on her heel and ducked Miller’s swing, tripping him and straightening in time to catch the bowstaff Bellamy tossed her.  She met Octavia’s staff with her own and the wood clacked as they fought, stroke for stroke.  Octavia was his best fighter, but Clarke held her own easily, even with Miller coming at her whenever Octavia backed off.  Miller tagged out and Monty joined in, and then Emori started dancing around the edges of the fight, interfering whenever it looked like someone needed a breather.

And still, Clarke fought.  Far harder than he had expected, with a skill that was impressive and a ruthlessness he admired.  She dipped and bobbed and wove, and Bellamy decided it was time to finish things.  He grabbed a staff for himself and joined the fray, but pretty soon everyone else had stepped back to watch them fight.

It was even better than watching her fight Octavia.  It was like a dance, every step perfectly choreographed.  He lashed out and she met him and then it reversed, over and over again until he was sweating despite the morning chill.  Somehow they both lost their staffs and Clarke grabbed a blunted practice sword from the stash next to the dropship.  Miller threw him one too and they were off again, swirling around the camp.  Swords flashed and try as he might, Bellamy couldn’t gain an advantage until Clarke left her left flank undefended for just a heartbeat.

He darted forward and kicked her leg out from under her, tackling her to the leaves.  Their swords went flying and he grabbed her wrists, trying to hold her down.  She caught his momentum and rolled to pin him instead, pulling a knife from a sheath on her thigh he hadn’t noticed.  She thrust it under his chin and smirked.  “My watch,” she demanded.

Bellamy held his hands up in surrender, damp leaves and soil soaking through the back of his shirt.  “As you wish.”


	4. IV

Arkadia’s walls gleamed silver in the moonlight.  Barbed wire curled around the top and electricity hummed through the gate, but there was no sign of the night watchman.

“He’s on the other side of the city.  Won’t be back on this side of the wall for another half hour,” Clarke whispered.  She was crouched next to the tree, looking up.  “You can take the ropes off now.”

Bellamy knelt down and untied her hands before handing over her bow and quiver.  It hadn’t been strictly necessary, but being outside the walls of Arkadia after curfew was a crime and Ontari did not seem to be as lenient as previous rulers were with the Griffin family, so he had convinced her to pretend to be his prisoner in case they came across any roving bands of deputies.  It was the least he could do for a fighter like her, but their trip back to Arkadia had been uneventful.

“You sure you can get back into the palace?” he asked.

“I’ve snuck in and out of the Mayor’s palace my whole life,” Clarke replied.  “I can handle this, I told you.”

Bellamy looked back up at the walls and then at the tree.  It was high, but the long branch that Clarke had described reached almost to the top of the mill.  Clarke followed his gaze and smiled gently.  “Nathan’s father misses him.”

“He misses David too.”

“I’ll tell him Nathan’s okay— we can trust David, I promise,” Clarke said.  “And— and thank you for the watch.”

“You earned it,” Bellamy said with a rueful smile.  Clarke stood to grab the lowest branch and begin her ascent, but Bellamy put his hand on her arm.  “Stay,” he said impulsively.  “Stay and fight with us.”

Clarke stopped and looked at him.  “I can’t,” she said, and it seemed sincere.  “Someone has to stay and protect our people from inside until— until she’s home.”

“Is the queen ever coming back?” he asked, because people had been promising that  _ Good Queen Lexa  _ would return for three years now and it didn’t seem any more likely than when she left.

Clarke looked away and blinked rapidly.  “That was why I was outside the walls— I was going to see the King Regent,” she whispered.  “No one’s heard from her in months.”

“Is she—?”

“Dead?” Clarke said, and it sounded almost like a sob.  “We don’t know.  I thought Titus...he was like a father to her.  I understand why she might not reach out to me, but I thought surely...surely she would be in contact with him.  She left him in charge, and I thought— well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.  He’s had no word of her either, and we— we fear the worst.”

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy said.  Murphy had told them of the queen’s broken engagement to the mayor’s daughter shortly before Lexa left to lead the fight against Mount Weather, but he knew what it meant to love someone and still end things.  He hoped Gina was happy and safe behind the walls.  She hadn’t wanted a life of exile and banditry and he couldn’t blame her, but it didn’t mean he didn’t still care about her.

Clarke blinked back the rest of her tears.  “But that’s why I can’t leave Arkadia.  If she’s— if she’s not coming back, someone needs to be in there.”

Bellamy curled his hands into fists to keep from brushing his thumb along her cheekbone.  “I’ll wait until you’re over,” he said, and Clarke nodded.  She pulled herself up to the first branch, shinnied out several feet, and then climbed to the next one.  Up and over she went, until she was on the long branch that dipped precariously under her weight as she clambered over the wall.

Then she was on the miller’s roof, and with a quick salute, she dropped out of sight.

  
  



	5. V

Bellamy landed lightly on the balcony and pushed aside the curtains.  “You’re right— getting into the mayor’s palace isn’t very hard,” he observed.

Over at her vanity, Clarke gave a pronounced start and jumped up.  She was already dressed for bed, in a long shirt that left her legs bare.  Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, a few wisps escaping at her temples.  “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“You broke into my place.  I figured it was time to return the favor,” he said, picking up a candlestick and inspecting it.

“Except someone here could kill you,” she replied, snatching it from his hand and putting it back.

“Technically, we could have killed you too.  Besides, I thought after the masquerade you might have missed me,” he said with a smirk.

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Ahead of myself?  You were the one who kissed me.”  He stepped closer, and her eyes dropped to his lips.

“Miss Griffin?” someone called from the other side of the door.

“Under the bed,” Clarke mouthed, waving frantically.  Bellamy hit the floor and she opened her door.

“Something wrong, Bryan?” she asked.

“There’s reports of an intruder.  Someone got over the walls, so your mother has asked that we secure all possible entryways.”

“On a night like tonight?  I’ll roast in here,” she pouted.  Bellamy watched her bare foot tap impatiently next to the guard’s boot.

“Sorry, Mayor’s orders,” he replied and the floorboards squeaked under his steps.  He closed the door Bellamy had come in, and there was a quiet beeping as Bryan set the alarm.  Bellamy cursed silently, because what had been just a lark now had gotten considerably more difficult.

He waited until he couldn’t hear Bryan’s footsteps before crawling out.  Clarke was leaning against her door, arms crossed and looking amused.  “How are you going to get out now, Robin Hood?” she asked.

“Maybe I just won’t leave,” he said, walking over and stopping when he was just inches away.  “Would that be a problem?”

Clarke gave a breathy laugh.  “Not for me, but it’ll be ten times harder for you to sneak out of here in broad daylight.”

He moved closer.  “Maybe I like a challenge.”

Clarke stood up straight and he stepped back.  “Follow me,” she said, checking to make sure the coast was clear before opening her door all the way.

Bellamy’s heart sank, just a little.  He had been hoping for a little more time alone with her, especially after the way her hands had roamed across his skin at the masquerade.  But Clarke was clearly on a mission to get him out of the palace unseen, so he crept along the hallway behind her.

She stopped at a corner and peered around.  “There’s an old dumbwaiter at the end of the hall. It takes you down to the basement, and then—” she broke off, fear dawning on her face, and Bellamy heard it too: several sets of footsteps, coming their way.  “In here,” she ordered, and shoved him into a closet he hadn’t noticed.

It was where the servants stored sheets and towels, it appeared, and it was a tight fit.  Clarke followed him in and clapped a hand over his mouth, as if he would be foolish enough to talk.  Outside he heard Bryan chatting with another guard, their voices getting louder as they approached.  And then, much to his chagrin, they stopped.  Maybe five feet from the closet, he guessed— far enough that they wouldn’t overhear rustling, but close enough that they were, for the moment, trapped.  They weren’t talking about anything in particular (not  _ that _ worried about a possible intruder, then) but they also clearly weren’t leaving.

His eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see Clarke studying him in the dim light.  Slowly, he reached out and put his hand on her hip, just above where her shirt stopped.  Clarke moved her hand so her palm was no longer covering his mouth and traced the bow of his lips in her fingertip.  He nipped at it, and when she curled her hand around the nape of his neck he bent down and kissed her.

At the masquerade she’d tasted like wine, but now she just tasted like  _ Clarke. _  He pressed against her, trailing his hands up her sides and moving his mouth so it was next to the shell of her ear.  “You’ll have to be quiet, princess,” he breathed, and Clarke nodded.

Her breasts were full and loose underneath her shirt, the nipple pebbling quickly when he swept his thumb back and forth across it.  She was breathing harder now, her hands roaming his body, and her leg came up to curl around his hip.  He ran his hand up her thigh and teased the edge of her underwear with his fingertip.  The fabric between her legs was growing damp and he teased her folds through it, a featherlight touch that had her arching into his touch.  Bellamy kissed her again, their tongues brushing together, and then slowly dragged his lips down her jaw.  He kissed the hollow of her throat and the divot above her collarbone before going lower, mouthing at her breasts through her shirt.  That got her to make a soft, strained noise, but after a moment’s hesitation the guards’ conversation out in the hallway went on as if nothing had happened.

Bellamy knelt, his feet pressed to one wall and his knees against the other, and eased her panties down.  He draped her left leg over his shoulder and nuzzled at the smooth skin of her thigh, her hands curling into his hair and tugging.  She smelled sweet and sharp and tangy, and the golden thatch of hair was already dripping with wetness.  With a private grin at her impatience he parted her folds and licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her center.  Clarke faltered a little, her knee weakening, so he straightened so she could rest her weight on his shoulder.  It was cramped and hot in the closet and outside the guards droned on, but none of that mattered.  All he cared about was the way her nails dug into his scalp and her thighs trembled, and while someday he wanted to know the exact timbre of her voice when she came for now, knowing she was close to losing control was enough.  Bellamy trapped her clit between his lips and sucked, and that was all it took.  She shuddered and arched silently, and then drew him up to chase her taste on his lips.

Outside, a radio beeped.  Bryan answered, and a fuzzy voice reported action on the southern lawn of the palace.  Just like that, the guards were gone— but Bellamy didn’t want to leave.  He wanted to stay in that closet forever, kissing Clarke with the taste of her on his tongue and the memory of her peak still flickering through her body.  Clarke pressed her forehead to his and let out a quiet sigh.  “Now is your chance,” she said, and he didn’t think he was imagining the longing in her tone.  “The dumbwaiter takes you to the basement and there’s an old coal chute that opens into the eastern gardens.  There’s no cameras there, and you can get up and over the wall before they’re finished on the lawn,” she breathed.

With considerable effort, Bellamy nodded.  Clarke squeezed around him to open the door and check, and when she gave the all-clear he again followed her out.

He made it four steps around the corner before he changed his mind and doubled back.  He caught Clarke around the waist and kissed her, not giving a damn if the entire mayoral security team found them.  “You haven’t seen the last of me,” he swore.

Clarke extricated herself from his embrace and playfully pushed him back the way he came.  “That had better be a promise,” she called at his retreating back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The masquerade referenced here may or may not be in a future chapter. ;)


End file.
